Blindsided

1992

My daughter was born in 1991, and it was not long after that fabulously painful life event that weird things began to happen.  I found myself driving and not knowing where I was even though I was miles from my home in Globe.  Pulling over onto the side of the road, I was forced to find my way in the blackness that swam in my vision, creeping forward in the middle of the daytime until I was able to turn off the engine. I found myself looking out eyes that did not see in anything other than a rolling tunnel vision like a speed reading machine.  Moments across the page of my life spotlighted and blacking out the rest of reality in case I might wonder. Silently sobbing terrified woman with newborn at the side of the road report at 5 PM.

 My husband was manager of the truck shop at the mines nearby, keeping the behemoths carrying ore for processing.  Sometimes he would work for twenty four hours at a time.  Leaving me alone with a new baby, I was barely able to care for myself.  I was huddled over the steering wheel of our black Toyota Celica, tears blinding my already dimmed sight. I heard the familiar diesel engine slow down as he pulled up beside me.  I heard a door shut and sensed his presence nearer to me as the gravel sounded the alarm.  He smelled of diesel fuel and cigarettes which was surprisingly comforting.  He opened my car door and put his arms around me, holding me as I leaned into his familiar shape.  Our baby was asleep in the car seat; I sat there silently crying so I wouldn’t wake her up.  Feeling desperately alone in the shrouded darkness of daylight, my husband calmed me down as our daughter awoke. 

“Can you follow me home?  It’s not far, and I will be right ahead of you.  Drive as close as you can so you can see the tail lights.  I am going to go slow so just do the best you can and we will get you home.”

I would fall asleep folding clothes, sitting on the couch like a narcoleptic idiot with a baby.  Our wolf Ozzie would watch over the baby letting me know if she needed me.  We had a pair of sibling Akita mixes who would take care of me, staying close, laying at my feet.  Buck and Kiki would jump any time I twitched.  Thank god someone was taking care of me!  I groped my way along the highway on that blacked out morning.   I turned up 4^th Avenue creeping up the hill behind the giant white service truck with a crane mounted across the top from back to front.  We turned into the driveway like synchronized swimmers preparing for the final movement of pointless beauty.  I reached up and turned off the ignition, popping the clutch in jerky exhaustion.  Made it home, four miles, with a crying baby in the car seat and all I could do was cry along with her.